


Sherlollipops - It's Never Twins

by MizJoely



Series: 221 Sherlollipops [179]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sherlolly - Freeform, Warstan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 03:49:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6888706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly gets a phone call. Is it really from her psychotic ex?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlollipops - It's Never Twins

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to be a Molliarty prompt fill but it turned into something else - something a bit more Sherlolly instead. So...yeah. Sometimes the stories just do what the heck they want, sigh.

“ _Well hey there, Molls! Did you miss…_ ”

“No, I didn’t. And I don’t. And I know this isn’t you because you’re DEAD!” Molly was shaking as she shouted into the mobile clenched so tightly in her hand, a combination of anger and fear. In the three days since the Moriarty broadcast she’d gone over the results of her autopsy, the DNA tests, the evidence from the police forensics team that had brought his body to her...and he was dead. He _had_ to be, else her very sanity was in question.

“ _Wro-ong!_ ” the voice on the other end of the line trilled. “ _Who told you that, Sherlock? Pfft, he has no idea. Thinks he’s the only one clever enough to fake his death._ ”

“B-but I saw your body, I did the autopsy,” Molly stammered. Because no matter how impossible, the voice on the other end of the line sounded very much like that of her psychotic ex-boyfriend.

“ _You did_ an _autopsy, yes,_ ” the voice - could it really be Jim? - agreed easily. “ _And may I just say it was a lovely job you did, very thorough. My twin brother couldn’t have asked for better treatment after he offed himself._ ”

Molly closed her eyes. “It’s never twins,” she whispered, echoing something Sherlock had said not long after returning from his aborted exile. God she wished he was here instead of off chasing clues with John!

“Wrong again,” the voice said - only this time it wasn’t only over the phone, it was right behind her, his breath stirring the hairs on her neck. As she opened her mouth to scream she felt the press of something hard, cold and metallic against her temple, and a finger pressed itself to her lips. “Shhh,” Jim counseled. She closed her mouth, lips trembling, and watched as the hand slipped down her face, her shoulder, her arm to her hand, where he eased the mobile from her grip.

She remained frozen with terror as he ended the call, then quickly entered a new number. She watched his hand raise up and disappear from her view, then heard his speak. “Hi, I know this isn’t who you were expecting. Surprise! Not dead, boring, moving on. New game.”

She could hear nothing but silence for a moment, then Sherlock’s voice coming from her mobile, tinny and distant but still recognizable. “ _Let her go, Jim, this is between us._ ”

“Sorry, Sherl, but the only thing between us right now is a certain morgue mouse.” He planted a noisy kiss on her cheek and cocked the hammer on the gun. Molly couldn’t stop the terrified gasp that escaped her lips. “Hear that, Sherl? You have an hour. Meet us on the roof, you know the one. Don’t be late and don’t bring anyone, this is strictly a three-way meet. Ta!”

With that, the gun was no longer pressed to her temple, but the threat was still there. “Come on, then, let’s just take a walk up to the roof, shall we?”

Molly did as he’d ‘asked’, fighting not to tremble as they hurried to the nearest lift. As soon as the doors opened, however, she found herself being shoved to the ground - no, not shoved, _steamrollered_ as a heavy body hurtled itself at her and her captor. She shouted, then grunted as they hit the floor in a tangle, Moriarty bearing the brunt of her combined weight with that of...Sherlock?!?

_Impossible_ , was her dazed thought, but no, it was Sherlock, grimly wrestling with Moriarty for possession of the gun. Sherlock’s hand was clamped around the other man’s wrist, keeping the gun pointed away from Molly, and while the two men fought for possession she managed to squeeze herself out from between them.

Moriarty was shouting, practically foaming at the mouth as Sherlock reared back to punch him. The blow did little more than temporarily daze their mutual foe, and as Molly scrambled to her feet he leveraged himself somehow and managed to knock Sherlock over onto his side. Biting her lip, Molly nerved herself up to do something she’d never have been able to bring herself to do if their lives weren’t clearly in danger: she aimed a kick at Moriarty’s head, not enough to knock him out, but certainly enough to distract him and allow Sherlock to land another blow to his chin.

He collapsed, utterly limp, the hand holding so tightly to the weapon loosened enough for Sherlock to pluck it from his grip, put on the safety, and tuck it into his pocket. He was breathing heavily, having raised himself to a half-kneeling position when Molly threw herself at him, holding him as if she’d never let him go again. “Thank God, how did you know to come here?” she asked once she’d caught her breath.

“I didn’t,” Sherlock admitted. But he was holding Molly just as tightly as she was holding him, one hand reaching up to caress her cheek. “I was coming to see you for...something else...when I received the call.”

“He’s not Jim, he can’t be,” Molly insisted. “I did the autopsy myself, I saw the police reports…”

“A fake with a passing resemblance,” Sherlock said dismissively. “If you look closely you can see the plastic surgery scars. He’s had vocal training as well, probably some acting, but clearly he’s an obsessed ‘fan’ who - mmph!”

He was silenced by Molly’s fervent kiss. “Sorry,” she whispered when the kiss ended. “But you have no idea how sexy you are when you’re deducing the bad guy after saving my life.”

“You saved your own life,” he pointed out with a smile, his hand still on her face, thumb stroking her cheekbone. “If I hadn’t been here, I’m confident you would have found a way to stop him on your own. Oh, and feel free to kiss me again any time you want.”

As Molly happily complied, the elevator gave a quiet ‘ding’, the doors opening to reveal John and Mary Watson, both armed, clearly ready to take down any threats. They stopped short at the sight of the snogging couple and the unconscious Moriarty impersonator, blinked, turned to face one another, then grinned and reholstered their weapons. “Handcuffs, Sherlock,” Mary said loudly.

Without stopping what he was doing, Sherlock reached into his other pocket, pulled out the required items and tossed them to his best friend’s wife. Still grinning madly, Mary caught them, then she and her husband expertly rolled their prisoner onto his back, cuffed him, and courteously dragged him aside so Molly wouldn’t have to practically sit on Sherlock’s lap in order to kiss him.

The courtesy, alas, went unnoticed; Sherlock and Molly, having finally reached this level of closeness, seemed entirely unwilling to set it aside.

And that, their friends decided, was just fine with them.

 


End file.
